Stubborn
by OnepieceFever
Summary: Sam is being stubborn as usual, though a small fight with Dean causes him to hide a wound from him that needs some attending to. Just a fic about how I think it would go between Sam and Dean in this particular circumstance. Set around sometime in season 2. Rated T for a couple of swear words.


**I do not own Supernatural...though I wish I did.**

Dean's POV

Sometimes Sam is the most pigheaded person I know, I'll say white and he'll say black, I say up and he says down. If he thinks he is being given an order he will try to do the opposite. I scrub my hand over my weary face and walk over to Sam who is obviously hurt from a previous hunt but wont admit to it, the little brat. "Sam" I say almost pleading, He looks up from where he is sitting on his bed researching on his laptop. Typical. "Show me." a knowing look flashes across his face but is quickly replaced with an innocent clueless one. "Show you what Dean?" I cross my arms, unamused by my little brother's dumb act. "You have been moving like an old lady since our last hunt with that nasty butt-ugly ghost, so what's up?" Sam's brows furrow and I can practically see his thoughts storming around in his massive head. No doubt trying to find the best way to tell me what's going on without actually telling me anything. "Nothing, I just got tossed kinda hard into a wall and I'm a little sore. That's all." He reasoned. I glared and he put his hands up in mock surrender, "I swear." he said. I wasn't really convinced but I didn't push it. "Sure." and I walked into the bathroom to take the first shower hoping he wasn't lying.

Sam waited until he heard water running to take off his coat to examine his wound on his back. He cursed as he spotted blood on the inside of his jacket and quickly took his shirt off as well which was also soaked with blood. "Alright, it's worse than I thought." He would have to wait until Dean got done in the shower before he could get in the bathroom to clean his wounds. Normally Sam would ask Dean to help, but they got into a huge fight before the hunt about how Sam was big enough to take care of himself, and didn't need Dean to keep breathing down his neck. Yeah, better not let him know. Sam heard the water being turned off, no doubt Dean was trying to be fast so he could check up on his brother. Sam quickly donned his jacket again and tossed his soiled shirt on the floor next to his bed and started pulling out his sleeping clothes. Dean walked out in a towel and eyed sam suspiciously as his little brother shuffled past him into the bathroom with his coat on.

Sam quickly locked the door and shucked off his clothes, hissing as he pealed the jacket from his sore back. He could feel fresh blood seep down his back and over his bare legs. Sam turned on the shower and quickly stepped into the warm spay, gritting his teeth as the water hit his wounds causing memories of the fight to come flooding back.

Sam's POV

We arrived at the house where we were hunting a ghost named McCathy. I stepped out of the car and barely got two feet before Dean called out to me, "Sammy, stay close." I rolled my eyes as he tossed me a shot gun loaded with salt rounds. "Dean, I am 23 years old, I'll be fine." Dean closed the trunk and we walked up to the front door of the ancient abandoned house. I heard a creak as the old oaken door slowly swung open by itself. "Well, that's not creepy at all." I heard Dean say. I made to move through the door until I felt Dean push me behind him and I fought off the urge to groan. As we stepped into the house the stale air hit my lungs. Mold and dust that built up over the years gave of an incredibly musty scent. The house was in two levels and I headed for the upstairs when Dean grabbed my arm."Wait." he ordered. I cringed inwardly "What Dean." I bit out. Not bothering to hide my irritation "We don't know what to expect so let's search both levels together." I rolled my eyes again, "It will go much faster if we split up." I said reclaiming my arm. "Sammy, this ghost has killed twelve people, I don't want you to be alone if you find it." I snorted, "Dean I am old enough to take care of myself. I sure as hell don't need you to be breathing down my neck 24 7." Dean's lips pursed but he backed off none the less. "Alright, just be careful, ok." I ignored him and headed up the stairs as I heard him growl, "Sam!" "Ok dad!" I snarled back.

I found the master bedroom and walked in when the spirit appeared behind me and grabbed me by my jacket, forcing me to drop my gun. I managed to wriggle out of my coat and snatch my gun off the floor and I spun around to shoot. The McCathy spirit was horribly mangled looking, but surprisingly fast as it sidestepped my gun, picked me up, and threw me into the bookshelf across the room. I felt white hot pain as the wood of the furniture gave away under my back. I quickly sprang up, not giving myself time to feel the extent of my injury, and fired three shots into the disfigured apparition and watched it fade. Dean called my cell letting me know that he found the remains in the basement. I Grunted an, "On my way." as I picked up my jacket and headed downstairs.

Feeling lightheaded, Sam eventually braced his hands on the shower wall. The pain almost causing him to pass out. The younger brother turned the water off and dried and dressed himself before stepping out of the bathroom.

Sam looked at Dean who was sitting tensely on his bed, his blond head bowed, he resembled a rubber band about to snap. "You sure there is nothing you wanna tell me Sammy?" His voice calm only on the surface. "No?"Sam cautiously answered. Dean's head snapped up his face unbelievably pissed. "Really?!" That's when Sam spotted his ruined shirt in Dean's hands and swore. "Dean, listen I can explain-" Dean's expression further darkened as he stood up and walked towards Sam, "Shirt off." "Dean it really isn't that bad-" "Sam! Shirt! Off!" Sam flinched but glared at his brother who was crossing his arms. "Now!" Dean ordered in a tone their Dad used when they were in trouble, quiet calm, yet promising years of pain to those who did not comply. Almost instinctively Sam peeled the shirt he put on after the shower off. Dean's green eyes expertly taking in every flinch. "Turn around Sam." Sam huffed his displeasure but turned around none the less, wincing as Dean grabbed his shoulders to get a better look. Dean cursed behind him, "Sammy, why did you try to hide this?" Since his answer off, "I didn't feel like it" sucked, he simply shrugged his shoulders. The pain causing him to gasp. "Lay down on the bed while I get the first Aid kit." if Dean saw the stink eye Sam was giving him he didn't say anything.

Dean came back from the bathroom with the kit and saw Sam standing next to the bed. Dean knew Sam was trying to push boundaries like the kid he claims not to be, but Dean wasn't really in the mood for it. Dean gave Sam a warning look similar to their dad's. Sam relented, rolling his eyes as he slowly laid on his stomach on the scratchy motel bed. Dean roughly pulled a chair next to Sam and got to work wiping away blood to get a better look.

Dean's POV

The moment Sam turned around I swore. His back was shredded and he had multiple abrasions coloring his back in yellows and purples. When Sam finally got on the bed I pulled up a chair and started wiping blood away from the deeper cuts, seeing bits of wood peaking out. "Damn it Sam!" "What?" he asked, voice tense in pain. "I'm going to have to pull out the pieces of wood still embedded in your back." I answered as I reached to grab a tweezers from the kit.

Sam would never admit it but he always liked the way Dean patched him up. Even now when he was furious with his stubborn little brother he still is being as gentle and efficient as possible. His fingers gently prodding for the stray pieces of wood. Sam tensed as he felt the tweezers slip into his wounds and pull out the slivers. Dean wiped away more blood and went to pull out a particularly nasty piece that was embedded deep. "Sammy, I need you to grab the headboard." Sam immediately understood. It meant that this was going to hurt and Dean didn't want him punching him out of reflex. Sam nodded his head and grabbed the headboard and tensed as he felt Dean's fingers on a particularly sore spot. Sam groaned as Dean's index and thumb spread the wound open and the tweezers went in deep, trying to find purchase. Sam let out a noise akin to a whimper, "Sorry Sammy, almost got it." He finally did and started to pull the piece out, causing his little brother to stuff his head into the pillow to muffle his screams, he was about to black out. Dean noticed and quickly cleaned up the rest of the wounds, stitching the deep cuts. "Don't black out on me yet, stand up." To tired to resist the order Sam got on his feet wobbly. "Alright, now hands up over your head." Sam's head fogged with fatigue, "De~an" he whined. He just wanted to sleep. "No Sam. Not until we finish, now hands up." Sam complied and his big brother quickly wrapped a banged around his back and chest. Near the end of it Sam was leaning heavily on Dean, his large head tucked under Dean's chin, as he finished the bandage. His big brother's warmth lulling him to sleep. Dean, sensing this, led him over to his bed and laid him out on his stomach, gently pulling the covers over the sensitive back. He briefly set his hand on Sam head. "Night Sammy." All his previous anger gone as Sam unconsciously nuzzled closer to his hand.


End file.
